Reune
by Astrid Goes For A Spin
Summary: "He was probably the bravest friend I've ever had. He..." Then she saw me. Her face went blood red. "He's right there!"


**Really, my main point here is that I really _hope_ it's as depressing as I think it is. (Well, this chapter. ;) The next should be a little more cheerful.)**

She hadn't really expected for him to come back.

Running for her life, she avoided the worst of the explosion, covering her head as the blast washed over her, heat singing her clothes and the ends of her hair. Smoke billowed behind her and she forced herself onto her knees, at least, pulling herself out however she could.

Mercifully she was only feet from the Labyrinth. She gulped the clean air, slumping against the wall. For a long time, she couldn't hear or see, just smell the acrid smoke: flames, fire, lava, disintegrated Telkhines…

_Percy._

Light was still burned into her eyes. With a numb arm, Annabeth reached up to her head, trying to make sense of things.

_Percy._

She blinked, hard. Spots danced before her eyes. When they finally cleared, her vision was fuzzy. There was a solid brick wall in front of her, a dead end to her right. There was no door. Percy, wherever he was, couldn't get out.

She didn't feel. She didn't think. She just _was_. She dragged herself up and stumbled into the darkness.

She had no supplies; she was alone in the maze. She had to get out. Get to camp. Chiron. Home.

She didn't know what happened, but all of a sudden she was sitting down, crying. Where was her knife? Safe, tucked into her belt. The heat from the explosion had burned its imprint into her jeans, and behind them, her leg. Wincing, she rummaged in her pocket, hoping for nectar or a crushed square of ambrosia. Nothing.

Even the idea filled her with guilt. Percy would be needing a lot more than ambrosia…if he wasn't already burned.

Tears seeped out of her eyes, providing the smallest relief to her raw cheeks.

_Percy._

No one, not even the son of Poseidon, could have survived an explosion like that. She ran things through in her mind: the Telkhines closing in, one of them wielding the scythe of Kronos … And then what? Nothing fit together in her mind. Telkhines weren't explosive. And the volcano wouldn't have just decided to erupt… it was a forge of Hephaestus.

Everything logical whirled behind her pain. She became aware of another burn on her leg: the metal spider had been in her pocket. Numbly, she pulled it out and pressed the print, not entirely committed to jumping up and running after.

"Take me to Hephaestus," she whispered, her voice hoarse. She coughed, and when her eyes opened again, all she could hear was the sound of tiny metal feet.

She ran in pursuit.

.

The god wasn't surprised at all to see her.

"Wh- what happened," she choked. "You – you did that, didn't you? You caused your forge to explode to save Percy. Right?" She was hopeless. She grabbed at the idea, even though she knew from experience that it was too good to be true: gods didn't do things like that.

"I'm afraid not." The god didn't seem perplexed at all: that his little errand had almost killed the two of them. "It was all him, my dear."

.

How many days passed, she didn't know. Annabeth drifted through all of them in a haze of misery, missed meals, and crying in her bed. She'd given up on the quest, except for a single dying ember in her heart that wanted to cause Luke _pain._ He'd tricked her, hurt her, and it was his fault that Percy was … it was all his fault for everything. He was all she'd had after Thalia…

Chiron roused her on the fourteenth day since her return to camp, grave and solemn. She sat through the ceremony in silence. Chiron had warned her she'd have to speak, but she didn't have any words.

Only certain words trickled into her consciousness. "Only assume … long … silence … unlikely … prayers … have asked his best surviving friend to do the honors."

_Best surviving friend._

She was all alone now, wasn't she? Percy, Grover, Thalia, Luke…even Tyson.

She vaguely remembered her cabin whirling around her, putting together a shroud. Silk would burn well, she thought. Burn, burn just like …

She picked it up, the length trailing in the wind as she wobbled toward the bonfire. She cleared her throat and whispered, spur of the moment, "He was probably the bravest friend I've ever had. He…"

She was searching the audience for someone left to her, listlessly. Someone at the very back of the pavilion caught her eye, and she thought she was hallucinating. Blood rushed to her face and she screamed, "He's right there!"

Her numbness was shattering. A mob descended on him, happy and joyous and loud, but she didn't see or hear anything. She shoved everyone in her way aside until she was standing right in front of him. Dressed in white, he really _did _look like a ghost, one of the chittering shades from Hades.

But he was solid.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" She yelled, smashing into him so hard she swore she heard something pop. Things were filtering in around her, and her world went crystal clear. "I – we thought you were dead, Seaweed Brain!"

"I'm sorry," he said innocently. "I got lost."


End file.
